


Into The Woods

by Astraloon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Dorian Pavus (Mentioned) - Freeform, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Teasing, Varric Tethras (Mentioned) - Freeform, Winter fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5583340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astraloon/pseuds/Astraloon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Sketch-a-Doodle for the DA Secret Santa - hope you enjoy darling!</p><p>Commander Cullen is in for a little more than a stroll through the wood when Inquisitor Elowen Trevelyan requests his company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Woods

Winter in Ferelden was easily the Commanders favorite time of year. The trees frosted over and sparkled like the outrageous diamonds often displayed in the windows of Orelsian jewelry shops. The snow covered rich farm earth like a blanket of white satin, stretching towards the horizon in a perfect expanse. Here in his homeland Cullen felt at ease – his headaches came less frequently with the chill on the air, and the crisp sent of pine cleared his mind with a gentle calm he was rarely afforded in Skyhold. None of that compared to the sight of her, however.

His lady Trevelyan.

Elowen looked absolutely regal in her winter robes, colored similarly to the sky above them. Elegant cloth of soft blue trimmed in what he assumed could only be white bear fur. She rode a few paces ahead of him on her steed, aptly named Honey, and was pointing out the types of song birds she recalled Dorian telling her about.

Cullen couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he realized he hadn’t been paying attention to her for several minutes, simply overcome with the tranquility of the moment. “Cullen!” her voice snapped as she looked back at him over her shoulder, emerald eyes squinting against the sun “Are you even listening to me?”

Maker, he’d be had.

“Ah…” his hand came up to rub the nape of his neck, a pesky tell he had developed over the years. Varric had pointed it out one night during a round of Wicked Grace in an attempt to help him recover. It hadn’t worked then, nor did it help now – Elowen huffed at his tactless response.

He trotted up quickly beside her, “I am truly sorry, forgive my carelessness?” He had come out here with her for a break in the chaos currently calling itself The Inquisition. Elowen had waited patiently for him in the corner of his office one morning as he was delegating orders for the week. Once he had concluded and all soldiers had taken their leave - she politely requested a horseback tour through the dense woods and spacious farmland she had come to know on her travels.

He had eagerly accepted.

Now she was displeased with his daydreaming – and rightfully so. Andraste preserve him, he would need to make it up to her in some respect.

But Elowen only smiled and dismounted from Honey, walking over to the edge of the forest they had been making their way around. “I suppose I could. Why don’t we walk on foot for a little bit? I’d hate for the horses to tire out before we returned.”

Climbing down from his own Charger, he landed with a muffled thump. The snow came up just past his ankles – thick and sticking to his boots. “Sounds perfect, my legs could use the stretch.” He hadn’t done this much riding in years.

Together they made a path between the trees, carving out a crevasse with their footprints. Silence had settled between them, but it was far from awkward. With Elowen, Cullen was so at peace with himself he couldn’t help but wonder if it were all a dream – a cruel trick played by fate, letting it on for too long. She was the Inquisitor, constantly throwing herself into the heat of battle, daggers faster than arrows as she moved through Venatori and demons alike. She was a force demanding respect, and he readily gave it.

He would give her anything she wished, if only she had the heart to ask him of it.

Cullens’ brow creased in concern as he realized, again, he’d been succumbing to fantasy. However this time there was no sarcastic chide from his Inquisitor – and as he turned in her direction to make some sort of conversation, she was not to be found.

“Elowen?” His words fell on silent air, and anxiety flared in his gut. No movement in the bush, no rustle in the trees - even as he inspected the ground, no prints gone off in another direction.

“Elowen – this isn’t funny! Where are yo—“ before Cullen could finish his scold, a snowball caught him in the chin. With a burst of bright shock at the surprise, his mouth hung agape – spotting her peeking out from behind a willow they had passed a few yards back.

Ah, she had double-backed while he had been dazing off.

“Commander! How could a man of your position be caught off his guard? Perhaps your role within the Inquisition should be reconsidered?” Her smirk grew as she snickered under her breath “Perhaps you’d better serve with the mounts? I’m sure Master Dennet could use an experienced stable hand.”

He couldn’t hold a chuckle at the empty threat, bending down to form a ball of his own “Oh, I don’t know about that Inquisitor. I doubt Master Dennet would take as kindly to my dallying as you do.” Standing upright he lobbed the snow at her, but she dodged it with ease –dancing between the trees like she were made of the breeze.

“You would assault your leader in such a manner? Prepare yourself, Cullen Rutherford! I will suffer no such insult!” her giddy tone was music in his mind, and he swiftly moved out of the path of another snowball, ducking behind cover of his own – an overgrown bramble now bare in a winter form, it provided a barrier of brittle thorn.

In the dense wood, they waged a brutal war. No tree was safe from a misguided snowball, his shield bent and snapped at her continuous launches, the birds fled in flocks as they laughed their battle cries aloud at one another – light-hearted insults and witty banner exchanged between tactical manoeuvres and relentless assault. Cullen had never been in an altercation so enjoyable.

“ – and your mother was a nug breeder!” Elowen let out a yelp of surprise as a snowball caught her in the thigh, throwing her off balance and sending her tumbling into a snow bank.

Cullen couldn’t help but let loose a snort of laughter, lowering his prepared arm to make his way to her.

He felt bad.

He really did.

Sort of.

"Are you alright, my lady? I would hate for you to ruin those beautiful robes.” He bent down and extended a hand out to her, a smile broad across his face. The pink hue in her cheeks warmed him, and the sheepish expression did nothing to dull the beauty he found in her soft face.

“Mmm…that would be a shame.” Elowens voice was like velvet now, low and delicate as she reached up for the help offered, grabbing him and pulling her small frame into his eager embrace. She clung to him then, and her breath tickled his neck, sending a bolt of electric need down his spine - a superb pleasure he was not accustomed to.

Cullen could feel all his muscles contract at once. Maker, she had a way with him.

Carefully turning his face toward her own, he allowed himself a gentle caress of her auburn hair – lightly dusted in snow and lovely as it caught the sunlight beaming between the trees. Elowen relaxed against him at the touch, sighing softly into the fabric of his coat.

In all his irresponsible fabrications, this was better than anything he had concocted in his dreams.

 Elowen squirmed a bit then, repositioning herself and running her hands up his shoulders - intertwining her fingers behind his head, thumbs stroking his hair. He could feel the blush spread across his face as their eyes met, hers half lidded and glazed.

Her allure was endless.

Before he could stop or reason himself out of it – Cullen pressed a kiss against her lips, warm from bated breath she had been holding and exquisitely inviting, just as he had imagined them to be. His hand cupped her cheek as he pulled her waist against his. If he was going to be bold he would see it through fully, and she responded in kind with a tender pressure he had so longed for.

Elowen arched her back slightly to deepen the kiss, breasts brushing against his chest with a murmur of encouragement, and Cullen wondered how much more he could take before pulling them both down into the snow, taken by the fever quickly building at the base of his spine - her heat against his as they gave into the passion of each other.

No, not here.

It needed to be special, not a romp in the backwoods snow of a Ferelden forest.

As if she could sense his hesitation, Elowen released him and backed away – her lips swollen and smiling. Tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear, she watched him with a playful expression. “Shall we call a truce, Commander?”

Her voice cracked slightly and Cullen felt his heart lift.

“Yes, my Inquisitor. It does seem we are both perfectly matched in another.” Taking her hand, he began down the path back to where they had left the horses “But perhaps negotiations should be worked out back at Skyhold?”

Elowen nodded strictly in mock sternness “Yes, I believe talks will be needed. I suggest you clear up whatever unfinished business you have remaining, and meet with me in my private chambers.”

In all his years as a solider, as a templar, Cullen had never had to exercise such restraint as he did now. “At your command, Lady Trevelyan.”

Maker, is was going to be a painfully long ride back home.


End file.
